John X Doe
by tohonomike
Summary: And after Sunnydale falls into the earth, Hank Summers remeets a man who remembers everything but himself. I will happily take suggestions except slash as to how this story should go. Part 5 up!
1. Chapter 1

_John X Doe (1 of ?)_ _Author: Tohonomike __Disclaimer: All characters belong to their rightful owners...it will start off with the Joss/ME characters, and any other characters or real-life folks are clearly not mine. NO money is involved. None are mine. There is at least a Highlander (not mine and pre-Endgame) cameo if not outright crossover. We'll see where this one goes._

**June 1997**

Xander had decided to hang around and say goodbye to Buffy when Hank Summers showed to pick up his daughter for the summer. As the divorced parents talked things over in the kitchen, Xander joked about her lying out next to the pool or swimming for the whole summer.

Buffy shook her head, suddenly in a slightly down mood, "I think I'll be staying away from water for a while, Xander."

"Hey Buff, don't be afraid of the water. It was a one-time thing. I brought ya back. No more drowning Buffs, Buff."

Buffy gave her best male friend a half-smile, about to say something, when from behind them Buffy's father places his hand on her shoulder. Joyce was still inside.

"Buffy? You, you drowned, Honey?"

Buffy was at a loss for words as her dad hugged her rather than start with the yelling. Xander thought fast, hoping to prevent Buffy from getting into trouble.

"Mr. Summers, she's fine. She, she fell and landed in the water. I did the whole CPR thing. She's just a little jumpy's all."

"Obfuscation like that at so young an age is the sign of a future lawyer or business manager, son," Hank Summers directed seriously but not in a hostile manner.

"Not me, sir. No money, so no real prospects in my future. Least I can look after my friends."

Hank Summers looked at the kid, who didn't look away, but wasn't challenging him. The older man turned back to his daughter. He listened to Buffy's slight alteration of facts. Hank looked at the kid who seemed to have saved his daughter but wasn't really taking credit for it. He put a hand on Xander's shoulder and guided the boy away from Buffy and Joyce when the mom came out and went over a few things at the last minute, but was still unaware. The men waited near the car.

"So…you saved my daughter's life?"

"Yeah…but she would have made it…"

"It doesn't sound that way. You think you might look for summer work?"

"Um, sure. I guess."

"Well here, kid. My card and numbers," the man told him as Buffy and Joyce came up to the car, everything looking resolved. "Next week, give me a call and we'll talk on the phone. It'll probably be errands and stuff…mail room. But it pays pretty well. And who knows? If you're good we sometimes have part-time spots open for weekends."

"I'll think about it, sir. But I don't know if my folks'll let me."

"Hey, hold the card. If not this summer, maybe some day, kid. I owe you."

Xander nodded, and watched as they left before looking at the card: Henry Holland Summers III, Chief Auditor, Wolfram & Hart.

**May 2003 – Los Angeles**

Angel and Vail finished discussing what the vampire wanted for his son. Details of what would be required were unimportant to the future executive of the law firm. So Vail added a special twist of his own.

"We can save him, but it will require as a template the memories of the living human that considers you his greatest enemy. This will ensure his separation from you"

Angel could really only think of two people, both in Sunnydale that fit that condition. But it was the boy who would fit that description best. But Angel wasn't going to voice a name when things progressed.

"Done." And suddenly Angel was at Wolfram & Hart in the lobby with the rest of his team. Vail was out of sight, and Lilah smugly approached.

**May 2003 - Sunnydale**

"Where's Xander?" Angel asked as he entered the house and saw the others he new.

"Don't know," Buffy replied with only the tiniest bit of worry mixed in with her exasperation at the missing carpenter. "A few days ago, he just wasn't here anymore. His stuff was gone; not even a note. I guess with losing the eye and all, he finally decided to call it quits."

"He lost an eye?" Angel asked, shocked, "When?"

"A couple weeks, but since he's not here, we can't worry about it until the fight's over." Angel felt a bit of unease at the timing of Alexander Harris's disappearance, but was even more concerned with Buffy's emotional detachment. The other seemed under a huge amount of stress, and none of it made a lot of sense as to how they were handling things.

"Has Willow tried a spell to find him?"

"We're not letting her do magic except in emergencies, Angel. The whole 'Dark Willow' episode and all. We don't want to strain her."

Angel felt dread mount, and after talking just a bit with Faith, Giles, Dawn and Giles, made a call from his car as they left.

"Wesley? This is Angel. You know those 'teams' we have working for us now? I want them sent to Sunnydale. I don't know if Buffy's going to be able to pull through this time, and we should be ready just in case. No, I want them to stay out of sight until it seems the last battle begins…then move in wherever possible. If there really are Turok-Hans under the Hellmouth, we should be ready to stop it. Good. I'll be at the mansion; we'll base out of there."

**The Fight at the Hellmouth**

The battle didn't go so well, though the teams moved in quickly and effectively. A pair of the uber-vamps made it over and through a surprised and quickly-ended Andrew and Anya and threw Robin and Willow aside as the Wolfram & Hart contingent reached that section of the school and counter-attacked. Beside her, a semi-conscious Buffy picked up the Slayer Scythe and frowning, turned to the mercenaries.

"You guys know the score?" she asked the half-demons, who nodded, "I need to get down there and make sure Spike does whatever he needs to do to stop them. Let's go."

Fifty mercenaries were able to hold the vampires in a few bottlenecks after most of the potentials fell. On Angel's orders given from a darkened RV-Command Post outside, Gunn and Wesley charged in with secondary teams and broke through to rescue the girls.

Spike began to light up from where he, Buffy, Faith and two teams were being slowly ground down in isolation, when Gunn's guys broke through for a minute.

"Hey Gunn!" Faith shouted as she used a pair of short swords to barely take out an uber, "Joining the fun!"

"Nah…gotta get you out girl!" he shouted as Clem and a team set up a few M-60s and started in providing cover with half-tracers and half high explosive rounds. "Get moving!"

Spike's glowing turned to beams filling the cavern, and he turned to Faith before Buffy could say anything.

"Get her out of here Slayer!" the Spike-corrupted soul of William Ragsdale shouted in cooperation with the demon inside, "I'll hold them!"

Faith nodded, grabbed the Scythe from the Spike-distracted slayer, sliced off the head of the last immediately-threatening vampire before using the haft to tap the blonde slayer into unconsciousness.

"Which one are you?" Faith asked the sun-beaming undead as she threw Buffy over her back. The sacrifice thought for a moment.

"Both of us, Slayer. Both of us."

Of the Sunnydale Contingent, only Buffy, Faith, Giles, Dawn and Willow escape the Hellmouth, and only the two slayers failed to sustain injuries taking longer than a week to heal. And the slayers, exhausted, bruised and beaten, were too tired to think by the time Angel's Wolfram & Hart guys got them to LA and away from the sinking city.

**June 1st, 2003**

Cyrus Vail smiled as his minions left to take the young man and leave him naked and alone on the island up in the Pacific Northwest. Vail had objected strenuously to turning over Wolfram & Hart, and so had prepared his own 'vengeance weapon' in the event that the mistake destroyed him.

And so he'd downloaded the entire archives, mundane as well as supernatural, into a mind altered to handle it all down to the genetic level. And much of the changes occurred between the vampire's son and the 'weapon.' No longer would the 'Destroyer' be the only one of his kind, and his place in the scheme of things taken by a Light piece now Grey.

The intriguing presence of former possessions and memories were quite useful in bridging the differences between human and human child of vampires. Both were used up, but fused the parts of the 'weapon' into a viable singular individual whose essence would eventually turn it to the destruction of the undead. The tiniest dormant traces of unusual DNA were put to use in making a better creation. And the man's new eye, even if it meant colorblindness, would allow Vail to observe to his own amusement or need what the 'One Who Sees' experienced if it moved him to so do.

And the best part?

Should Vail die or the son of Angelus embrace his father openly and with acceptance, the power, memories and resentment of both weapon and vampire's son would fully activate in the Sunnydale man, and he'd have the knowledge to end the vampire and his supporters. The nice thing about being evil is the ability to twist good intentions when convenient.

**June 2nd, 2003**

"Sire…" a minion hesitated as it approached him in his office. He waved it to continue. "Your, um, latest project seems to have been…taken just before we were going to drop it off on the island as planned."

"By whom?" the demon hissed angrily, "The vampire?"

"No sir. We only know that two humans were involved, both with unidentified rune markings. One was older, about fifty, and the other maybe in his early thirties. There was a feeling of familiarity to how they entered and departed, like they'd been here before. But the brain damage to the guards was so great, that nothing further could be drawn from the corpses."

"Very well. What did scrying show?"

"Nothing, Sir. We believe the project was Marked, sir. Possibly Branded."

"Oh well, begin the next project. This one will activate even if I can't amuse myself beforehand. Oh, and Ramius? Kill the entire security detail for incompetence."

**June 3rd, 2003**

"Well, did you have to shoot him?" the older man asked, "He might not survive."

"We couldn't let him exert himself too much in escaping before the Brand healed into him. Otherwise, our chance to guide him later wouldn't work. Vail would recognize us both."

"Yes, but what of the two bullets in the back?"

"I injected a little Mohra extract into him. Even if he doesn't find help on his own, he should heal within a week."

"That's only if he survives the day."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take to replace or takeover the Black Thorn."

"You're lucky I put in the change-of-management clause in your contract; as a free agent, you'll be able to avoid the vampire's scrying should he have the firm try."

"It's been handy. Though I'm sure you did it for more than just my ability to fire a gun."

"Do you think leaving him where Vail planned is the best option? Oh, and next time shoot in the ass and not the back."

"….fine. And the island plan works for us, as for the plan, Vail's assets have already left for Los Angeles. How are you set in the area while I'm in LA?"

"I placed a compulsion to seek me out within a few days. I have a place I've part-owned for the last few years. Spent my vacation time up there establishing myself. So I've sent my partner off to use up all the leave time I owe him. I think he's heading to Paris for a while."

"So did you find out who he was?"

"No, all I know is he's from one of the Hellmouths, and that Vail replaced a lost eye."

"If I find anything I'll let you know. What name are you going by up there?"

"Digger. It's how Dawson and the others know me."

**June 3rd, 2003**

The dark-haired man woke up chilled; he was naked; he was confused and filled with pain, fear and sensory overload. He made it to his feet and began running. He ran some more, at an unbelievable rate had anyone been there to watch. He ran over the edge of a cliff and down he plummeted into the water. The cold slowed down the bleeding of the run-reopened wounds. He screamed and cackled and went silent as he came back up to the surface, then dove deep again…something about his lungs allowing him to ignore deep worries of drowning. His subconscious solely worried about the cold as he swam and swam and … passed out.


	2. Chapter 2

_John X Doe 2_ _Author: Tohonomike __Disclaimer: All characters belong to their rightful owners...it will start off with the Joss/ME characters, and any other characters or real-life folks are clearly not mine. NO money is involved. None are mine._

**June 2003**

He felt hands pull him out of the water; he was cold but the symptoms of hypothermia did not seem to be setting in quite yet. He heard many people talking, but didn't have the energy to respond. His back hurt and his head felt like it wanted to split open. But as he fluctuated into consciousness, he knew he would pull through. There was somewhere he had to be, and something he had to do.

He woke in a hospital room, laying front-down on a bed, his back feeling better than before. He could hear the sounds of equipment, medical personnel and the occasional family member. He can also hear the scribbling of a pen and a man muttering slightly under his breath.

"So…you're awake," the man said as he stopped dealing with his notes and scooted his chair in front of the man who'd been muttering in at least four languages vaguely familiar to the detective. And some that weren't.

"I, I guess so. What happened?"

"That's my question, actually. You seem to have been shot in the back…twice. Care to let me know how that happened?"

"I, I don't know."

"How about what you were doing when the fishermen pulled you out of the water?"

"I think I…I was cold…and hurting and…afraid of something. I ran…right over a cliff."

"Okay, what about before that?"

Quiet, and the detective watched as the man tried very hard to concentrate.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean?"

"I, I can't remember anything before waking up there."

"Okay, how about something simple…your name?"

"I, I don't know that either. I woke up and that was the first memory I have."

"Amnesia?" the police officer asked in disbelief, leaning back. "I find that hard to believe."

"Hey, you find out who I am, feel free to let me in on the secret, detective," the younger man grimaced, clearly frustrated.

"Detective? How do you know that?"

"I'm in a hospital, being questioned as to my identity and whereabouts regarding my past. You're not wearing the normal attire or instrumentation of a doctor. Your questions are not of a medical nature. Your clothing indicates cold weather most of the year, the darker colors favored by those in authority and northern climates. Your watch says it's ten in the morning, and the angle of the sun through the window—"

"Stop. I thought you couldn't remember anything?"

"No, I guess I just can't remember anything before I woke up on the island. The areas of the mind and the handling of mem—"

"Stop…what are you, an encyclopedia salesman?"

"I don't know."

**June 12th, 2003 – 2:30 PM**

The detective, Frank Hayes, had run his fingerprints and identification through many national databases, but no hits from any of them. From the number of languages the guy had been able to speak, he was sure the military or FBI at least would know him… but nothing. His accent seemed to indicate he was from California, maybe the southern part, but that was it. The bullet wounds had healed, and the man who seemed to know everything except himself, was due to leave that morning. And as they had no reason to believe he was a foreign agent, or one who had committed a crime, he was being discharged in some spare clothes Frank had found at a Goodwill. He sighed as the man picked up a sports page and a two-dollar-bill someone had dropped in the parking garage. Frank was still curious, so he'd swung by to offer the guy a ride at least to a shelter.

"So…where to?"

"Is this today's date?" the 'John Doe' asked, showing him the paper.

"Yeah."

"Can you take me to the track? I need to see if this stuff in my head will get me enough money to stay off the streets." Frank shook his head, and drove the man to the Seacouver-Cascade Race Track just ten miles up the road, and a little out of his jurisdiction.

The man after a few minutes, turned from the paper and looked over, "Since you haven't said anything I'm guessing there aren't any leads on who I am or why someone would want to kill me?"

"Sorry, none at all."

Frank had to dodge out of the way of a tour bus chased by a crazy man in a taxi, and was going to turn around when he noticed several police vehicles zooming in on the event. Out of his jurisdiction, and having twice in the last year been cautioned by Avery about going outside the city boundaries without first letting someone know…he let the Cascade PD handle this one.

The race track was an odd experience, the guy building up a steady fortune. He was about to roll it all out on yet another trifecta when Frank pulled him aside.

"Hey man, you're going to sit this one out, you're getting a glazed look gamblers sometimes get. And you're not even holding back some of that lucre in case Lady Fate has it in to teach you a lesson."

The men argued about odds being just that, and not a guarantee, long enough that the race started. 'John Doe' sighed and looked out, watched as his horse lined up… and then one slipped and bumped another, two of them going down in the mud but unharmed. He looked at Frank.

"How did you know?"

"I didn't, but thing is, my man, you weren't using that weird-ass freaky brain of yours to cover yourself. Now, you still wanna keep going?" Frank watched 'Doe' think about it, then nod. "Okay, first thing, you got several grand. Here's the plan. First, hand me fifty dollars. Good, now hand put two grand plus two dollars in that left pocket of yours. Better. That'll cover you a bit. Get you started. Now, if you still want to bet, go get 'em."

Doe came back a minute later, "Hey, what was the fifty for?"

"I'm hungry, it covers my gas, and I paid for those second-hand clothes. This way you start life again on your own two feet. And when you see someone who you think will use the two dollar bill? Give it to them and let them have a chance."

"That's an interesting way of looking at things, Frank."

"Wisdom, my man. You have intelligence and facts, and I have experience and a feel for things. And I'm still curious about how you came to my little town."

"That makes two of us, Frank. That makes two of us."


	3. Chapter 3

_John X Doe 3_ _Author: Tohonomike _

_Disclaimer: All characters belong to their rightful owners...it will start off with the Joss/ME characters, and any other characters or real-life folks are clearly not mine. NO money is involved. None are mine. I do not own the characters or_ _any rights to the television show The Sentinel. They were created by Danny Bilson and Paul DeMeo and belong to them, Pet Fly Productions, UPN, and Paramount._

**June 12th, 2003 – 6:30 PM**

After two amazing hours of betting, Detective Frank Hayes had helped the strange John Doe find some more clothes and a place on the border of Cascade and Seattle, a rather large place over a pleasant enough blues bar going upscale-enough to attract more money from the gentrifying folks moving into the neighborhood, but without turning its back on the long-time clientele. Frank had remembered when Joe Dawson had run the place, and that 'Digger' was a partner that had sometimes come in during the summers a few weeks at a time to tend bar and give the other man some time away.

Remembering that a friend of his, Jim Ellison of the Cascade PD, lived only a couple blocks over, Frank headed that way.

"Hey Frank, how's it going?" the former Ranger greeted as the man entered the loft and saw a hippie-like dude and a bunch of papers at the kitchen counter. "Come in, come in. Hey, Sandburg! I'd like you to meet a friend from Seattle…Frank Hayes. Frank this is Blair Sandburg."

The two shook hands, Hayes looking at the college guy, "Sandburg, if you don't mind my saying so, you don't strike me as the kind of guy they'd partner up with Jim here."

Jim rolled his eyes, "He's not my partner, Frank. He's doing a thesis on police evidence gathering."

"And to do that he's still going to be a ride-along…partner," Frank jibed, causing Jim to roll his eyes and Blair to smile at the interplay between the two. "So, Sandburg, Blair, that big book looks like it's on Central America or something. You gonna be comparing us to those old death squad guys, or what?"

"No, no, no, no, not at all," Blair tried to cover, "Just some side research I'm finishing up, plus I know that Jim's background included time in the jungle, so I'm asking him for his impressions."

Frank turned to Jim in amazement, "You telling him about that mission in Peru where my team found you before I got out?"

"Not exactly, Frank. The chief, here, isn't getting anything classified. He just thought it might give a little insight into how I might approach things instead of another officer on a case."

"Okay, I can see that. But how'd your captain let anyone near you?"

"Well, I don't have a partner right now, so I'm the lucky one. And he doesn't seem so bad for an egghead."

"Hey!"

"Tell me about it," Frank said with an eye roll and explained his John Doe case. "So I guess we both get to deal with the big brains."

"Sandburg, how about we link you up with this Doe guy. With all those languages, maybe you'd recognize him or something."

"Sure thing, Jim. So, Frank, how's the guy going to get by without id or anything? That's got to be a pain."

"Well, I was hoping that Jim could tap a few of his old contacts to suggest something legal that won't take months. Jim, the kid seems like he's out of LA or somewhere, so I'm sure he's one of ours. But that's all."

"Okay, Frank, sounds like a plan. Bring him by next Monday to the station. I should have something for you by then if you can fax what you have over there tomorrow. I'll be getting Sandburg through the paperwork then, so I'll have some time."

"That's great, thanks Jim."

**June 13th, 2003**

John had had a long and unusual day; in spite of Frank's caution about setting up an id on his own before the detective's contacts could look into things a little more, the man without a known past just had way too much energy to sit back and do nothing.

He'd hacked into the Social Security Administration and other systems after breaking the computer security at the public library. After creating a complete identity that gave him a birth date of January 1, 1980, and a similar set of records in the collapsed and somehow familiar-sounding town of Sunnydale, California that had fallen into the Earth the previous month, all he now lacked were the hard copies the modern world relied on for confirmations.

And after overhearing a couple of youths talking about Malcolm X, John had inserted the initial as his middle one, no meaning, to signify his own search for identity and relevant affirmation.

He'd answered question after factual question in the center of the library, hoping to find an area of publicly-available knowledge he hadn't known, but his limits seemed not to include 'psychic answers' to questions. When a young woman had asked him in front of others when she'd die, instead of saying he just didn't know, he'd asked her a series of actuarial questions and had told her she'd most likely statistically live until 2056 as a best guess.

His next step after wiring and placing a high priority on his documents, he'd caught a taxi to the various government agencies, including Motor Vehicles, and come away with a new start as John X Doe, age 23. He'd then managed to get over to establish a bank account next to Seattle's version of Wall Street.

At three-fifteen, he entered the office of a young stock broker with an established local firm, a brought with him a bearer's check for thirty-five thousand dollars. The man had been happy to establish an account with the company, but had been both amused and confused at John's insistence, then explanation, on the investment he'd wanted to make on the Croatia-Zagreb Exchange, on margin, then selling it off just before the exchange closed.

Thirty-five thousand dollars at a ten-percent margin rate, and the man had quadrupled his money during a twenty-minute upsurge. Even after the firm's fee, John Doe walked out of his office at four-fifteen with a balance and draw-down account totaling a hair under a million. The stockbroker headed off to the four-thirty end-of-week meeting having a big step up because of the new account.

John decided with his money that he could afford a well-engineered sports car of some type. It was mostly the preponderance of article references in favor of certain types and models, and allowing variables such as his likely demographic information to determine that he'd go with the Dodge Viper SRT-10 in a black color. While slightly showy, it might also be enough to get him noticed and thus properly identified.

And after ten minutes of practicing the information in his head, and a few bumpy starts, he was able to not only drive, but drive frighteningly fast. And pulling up to his address, it felt right to have something to park in his secure garage space.

About eighty that evening, after he'd eaten, John had found himself playing the piano in the bar; he was able to play it and feel attached more to the song than the playing skill he'd discovered.

"Not bad, amigo," the proprietor, a man he'd met only briefly in regards to the apartment, commented. "Want a job?"

"I, I don't know. I just seemed to be able to play."

"How's that?"

"I have amnesia before a couple of weeks ago. Everything's new to me, and this is just one more thing."

"Strange, my friend. But the offer still sits on the table. Don't know how well you remember things now but folks call me Digger," the man smiled slightly with a nod and offered his hand. John shook it. "I prefer in kind or cash, but however you decide to come on board, let me know."

"Thanks…and what do you mean in kind?"

"You wanna order your groceries through the bar, that sort of thing, you can draw against your pay or if you exceed yourself, pay in cash. You get the wholesale discount and I don't report anything."

"Ah, I understand, and can see the advantages of that."

"Great, we'll talk it through tomorrow, but whenever I don't have someone up on stage, it'd be nice to have some background music people can relax to and maybe make requests."

"Um, okay, that sounds fair. Thanks…Digger."


	4. Chapter 4

_John X Doe 4_ _Author: Tohonomike _

_Disclaimer: All characters belong to their rightful owners...it will start off with the Joss/ME characters, and any other characters or real-life folks are clearly not mine. NO money is involved. None are mine. I do not own the characters or_ _any rights to the television show The Sentinel. They were created by Danny Bilson and Paul DeMeo and belong to them, Pet Fly Productions, UPN, and Paramount._

**June 14th, 2003 – 1:00 AM**

The vampire executive in charge of the Los Angeles branch of Wolfram & Hart paced the floor yet again. He'd been holding out on the Sunnydale refugees for the last two weeks, not telling them that Spike was back, though not corporeal.

The Slayers were both back to good health, and Buffy would be heading for Cleveland with Willow, Dawn and an ambulatory Giles. The Watcher had taken a few hits that had turned out to be much more damaging than at first believed, but was now doing better; only his Ripper persona starting to come out in frustration at immobility had finally forced Angel for his unlife's sake to loan him money until the firm's lawyers could free up the Council funds. With Dawn instead of Xander, the Scooby Gang were back to their original numbers.

Faith, on the other hand, in the meantime had her previous sentencing thrown out; Wesley found the personal and case logs in the W&H archives and they specifically showed a determination to 'frame' the girl who'd been only seventeen at the time of the crimes. And putting the case in front of an appellate judge previously in the law firm's pockets but told all would be forgotten by the new regime if he'd quietly ensure her exoneration, didn't hurt. Yesterday she was confirmed as a free woman. Her escape was considered an issue, but Angel offering to hire her for a year, and to include public service as part of it swayed the State prison officials and DA's office to drop all opposition.

**June 14th, 2003 – 2:00 AM**

Hank 'Digger' Summers reviewed the subject as dispassionately as he cold, but remembered the time when years before he'd told the teen that he owed him for saving his daughter.

'No sign of dhampiric capability yet, though we'll need to watch the significance of the colorblind situation. The only possible exceptions, are a seemingly sporadic increase in senses. 'John' heard me ask a question of Karen over loud music and across the bar, and was able to guess what I was writing from that distance on another occasion.'

Digger paused in his thoughts, letting them gather. 'He's now made more of his life in the last two days than he ever would have. Someday, I'll let you know who you were, Mr. Doe. But until then, I won't think of you except as you are, not as you were.'

**June 14th, 2003 - Noon**

John had been told by Frank to stay away from the case with the little girl; as a civilian being investigated, it wasn't Doe's place to actively participate. The detective then thanked him for the excessive data the man had given him to consider. John had seen her in color but that mattered only to him. Last night, he'd been looked at funny by both 'Digger' and that girl Karen at the bar. Lot of energy, she had. And so he'd explained he was colorblind.

So now he was here, walking along the 'boardwalk' and thinking, when he watched a couple get a regular hotdog from a vendor, and a spicy one. John didn't know if he'd like either kind. He ordered one of each…his metabolism the last few days had really kicked in with a vengeance now that he was active and healed.

The ferry had just left, and he was watching it head out toward the various stops, when he heard a woman's voice, and looked up. A gal in her twenties was in color, fashionably dressed, and was waving to him.

"Harri—" she called, and even as he strained his hearing, the departure warning horn of the ferry cut her off. After a moment of trying to communicate, Aura headed in to get a seat for the rest of the trip. Even though they'd never been friends, it was still nice to know that another person from Sunnydale was still around. And maybe she'd run into someone else after she headed back to San Fran the next day.

**June 15th, 2003 – 6:00 PM**

Doe had driven Detective Frank Hayes to distraction; between Doe getting involved in the case of the missing girl and then rescuing her by helicopter, the man didn't know what to do. Maybe he could get Ellison to dig around some and see if the guy showed up on any military databases; helicopter piloting just wasn't a common skill.

"And no, John, I haven't come across any Harry entries in missing persons that match your description. I'm sorry. Can we talk about this on the way up to Cascade tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sure. It's just, Frank, she seemed to know me. Her accent was also Southern California. Add to that her obvious ability to afford the clothes she wore, means that if we were at least friends, then someone in that same socio-economic bracket going missing should have been reported."

"But if none of them know you're missing? No one would know to look for you John. And you said yourself, you waited for a possible return, you checked the various stops. If she were important in your life, surely she would have tried going back. But we now have at least a partial for you to keep in mind when searching for yourself."

"Okay, you're right, Frank. I'm sorry."

"And hey, look at it this way…if you were really rich before, we should have found you already. So at least when you find out who you are you have that fine car and a decent place."

"Thanks, Frank, I'm not sure where I'd have ended up without you."

**Monday, June 16th, 2003 – 11:00 AM – Main HQ, Cascade Police Department**

Frank and John had gotten out of their vehicle just moments before and waited as they noticed Jim Ellison drive up with Blair Sandburg in his green Ford F-150 pickup truck and park near the fuel pumps. They waited and listened as the two men walked up, John's hearing a little better than Frank's though 'Oscar and Felix' were loud enough.

"Trust me," Blair tells him, casually waving at the two men, one he'd met the previous week.

"It's still not working. Let's just go over it again."

"Again?"

"Yeah."

"What's the problem now?"

"You got to drop that 'thin blue line' routine, okay?"

"Oh, no, no, no, no. That's some of my best stuff, man."

"I'm telling you, drop it."

"Look, I may be a rookie in your little Dirty Harry world here but I'm telling you, man. When it comes to thesis speak, I am a pro."

"In anthropology. The trick is to convince the captain that you're studying police science."

"I will dress up in an evening gown like J. Edgar Hoover if you thought it would help. I want this partnership..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop right there, Chief."

"Yeah, I know. I'm never to refer to us as partners."

"That's right."

"I'm strictly the observer."

"Right. This sentinel stuff stays between us. I don't want anybody finding out what's going on with me." They don't notice a moment of confusion on John Doe's face at the comment.

"Okay, fine!"

"All right?"

"Yeah."

Jim paused as they neared the doors. He looked at Frank and his friend, then around. Blair noticed while the two men they were meeting looked confused.

"What's up, man?"

"I thought I smelled blood."

"Oh, ho-ho! Man, you are good! Your senses are way up there. I sliced myself cutting a bagel this morning."

"Oh."

"Man. That is great!"

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play with sharp objects?"

Frank looked at the odd pairing, and exchanged handshakes.

"You guys feeling alright? You're talking strange? And Jim, you just pulling Sandburg's leg with that jungle voodoo of yours?"

"Yeah…" Jim responded, looking like he'd been caught, and quickly changed the subject. "Hey, who's your friend?"

"This here's John Doe. No lie. He went out and somehow got himself an id when I wasn't looking. Since he helped us out on that case with the little girl you may have read about this past weekend, I decided not to look too closely until you have a chance to contact a few folks about him."

Ellison looked the man over, six foot tall, two hundred plus pounds of dense muscle, slight callusing on the hands, firm grip and intelligent eyes. And extremely good healing if what Frank faxed him was to be accepted.

"Pleased to meet you, 'John Doe.'

"Yeah, I'm really hoping you can help out, Detective Ellison," John replied as they got into the elevator. None of them really noticed the uniformed officer who joined another as he took something out of a trunk of a police car. Or the body of a police officer in the trunk.

As the doors of the elevator closed, John decided to ask, "Forgive me for overhearing, but I overheard a bit of your conversation. Putting together the keywords of Sentinel, jungle, exceptional smell, and Frank's mentioning that Mr. Sandburg was reading up on Central America—"

"John, give him a minute to get used to you," Frank interrupted to the relief of Jim Ellison, "Let's get you squared away. I called Jim earlier, and we're going to try to put you down on their consultant list, then I'll take a copy back to Avery and hope it's easier to set you up the same way."

"Really? Wow, thanks Frank. This isn't just a way of keeping track of me?"

"Just? No. But as long as we keep you from touching anything or getting too close to a crime scene until we let you," Frank smiled smugly, "I see no reason not to have you shortcut my work."

"How's that?" Blair asked.

"John here seems to have a freaky encyclopedia for a brain. You want to know what the population of Peru was in 1853? If they had a census, he knows it."

Jim frowned, "I though you had amnesia?"

"I, I do, but while I know nothing about myself, other than liking spicy hotdogs better than plain…"

"Don't we all…" the two cops agreed as Blair smiled at the earnest man. Jim added, "Except Blair here."

"There's no accounting for taste..."

"Hey!"

"That's what I told him."

"Hey!"

"I meant that taste is a whole different consideration, so I can't offer an opinion since I'm just starting to have my own."

Jim decided to keep teasing Blair as a way of further avoiding the possible discovery of the sentinel situation by Mr. Doe.

"Well, I suspect that if it isn't scary to normal people, Blair isn't interested. Like those Microbacteria stuff."

"Macrobiotic," John and Blair corrected, causing the cops to roll their eyes this time. Frank turned to Jim.

"We need to keep the brains apart; the dynamic in this group would be scary."

**Major Crimes Department – Captain Simon Banks Office**

Simon had just given the okay to Frank and Jim behind closed doors regarding John Doe as a possible consultant-observer to the department based on his help in Seattle, and a five minute absolutely correct demonstration of forensics knowledge. In his observer status, he would be unpaid, but as necessary when he'd proven his knowledge to a greater degree, he'd earn standard rate. As Hayes led Doe to fill out the appropriate paperwork, Jim, Blair, and Simon were left to discuss the second situation further, Blair going on a bit.

"The central hypothesis to my dissertation is how the quality of evidence gathering at a crime scene can affect the capture of a perpetrator and ultimately the outcome of the trial."

"And you're requesting full access credentials to observe Detective Ellison on the job?"

"Yeah. He is the best on the force, isn't he?"

"Did you tell him that, Detective?" Jim mouths the word 'no' and shakes his head. "Look, Mr...Sandburg, is it? You don't seem like the law enforcement type. What got you interested in this field?"

"Well, I've always been fascinated with the concept of the thin blue line."

"The thin blue line."

"It's that slender thread that separates the lawful and the criminal elements of our society. It's a concept that dates back..."

"I'm familiar with the concept," Simon told him, holding up a hand to stop him. "Could you excuse us a moment? I'd like to talk to Detective Ellison alone."

"Yeah. Sure. No problem. I'll be right out here, man. Thanks. Great."

Simon shuts door and turns around to face Jim. He looks at the former Ranger half in pain and half in amusement.

"Jim, when you first told me about this guy I was expecting an academic not some neo-hippie flower child with time on his hands now that the Dead have broken up. Frankly, I'm having a hard time buying that you want him on your tail. Though that Doe guy might make up for it if yo don't get them together in the filed too often."

"Yeah, I hear you, Simon. This is a family thing."

"Family?"

"Yeah. Blair's my cousin's kid. They've been supporting him through college for the last seven years. They figured if he finally got his doctorate he'd go out and get a job."

"And all this talk about you only working alone?"

"Look, even my mom called and begged me on this one. As far as I'm concerned he's just another ride-along. Anything happens to him, it is my responsibility. I take the heat."

"All right. Have him go over to Personnel and start the paper work. If he can pass the security clearance, I'll sign off on him."

"Terrific. I appreciate it."

**Communications Room**

The blinds drawn and doors locked, no one in the busy offices nearby noticed the very soft sounds of silenced weapon fire.

**Major Crimes a few minutes later**

Jim's just finished up sending off the information Frank's given him on Doe, and the two are just catching up when Carolyn walks up and notices both men.

"Frank! Good to see you, it's been forever."

"Yeah, I know, and the way Jim's been going on about you owing him lunch I was ready to pay a buck for a candy bar to keep him from going cannibal on me."

"Hey," Jim protested with a smile to their chuckles, and turned to his ex-wife, "I tried calling you. Where you been?"

"Stuck in a deposition all morning."

"Ah. So where's my lunch?"

"See what I mean," Frank shook his head with a smile and pointed his thumb at Ellison.

"Yeah, I know," Carolyn commiserated, "And Jim, you don't have to be so damn smug about it."

"I just knew your sister wouldn't go through with the wedding."

"Right, now on top of canceling her shower tomorrow, I have to buy you lunch?"

"It wasn't my idea to bet on it."

"My afternoon is packed, but if you can be ready in five minutes, I know a great new Indian place."

"No, no. That's too spicy."

"Too spicy…you kidding me, Jim," Frank mocked, "Live a little. You can't live on those Wonder Burgers I always see you chowing down on."

"Hey, they're great!"

"And how often do you need to cram your exercise before the next physical?" his friend rolled his eyes. "I just got through mine…I was told by the doc to lay off the things myself."

Carolyn smiled and nodded her thanks, "I seem to recall from our married days that you loved Tandori. And since it would be rude not to include Frank in our lunch plans, so that's two votes to one."

"Okay, okay. We just have to check on a couple of civilians we have filling out papers over in Personnel."

"Meet me downstairs."

Joel Taggert walked up to the group and smiled greetings, and shook the Seattle detective's hand, "Hey, Carol. Frank, long time, no see."

"Yeah, last year's softball game where we whooped you guys."

Carolyn gasped in disbelief as she shook her head and left, "Hey. One run is not a whooping."

"Okay, okay." Hayes looked at the other cops, "I better go check on the brainiac twins."

Joel smiled and turned back to Ellison

"Hey, Jim, did you hear about Alton and Morrison? They were just convicted for the ferryboat bombing. Life sentences for both."

"That's good, but that's only two of them."

"Yeah, but the way Garrett Kincaid disappeared maybe the Sunrise Patriots are gone for good."

"Yeah, and maybe the sun won't rise."


	5. Chapter 5

John X Doe 5 Author, Tohonomike 

Disclaimer, "All characters belong to their rightful owners...it will start off with the Joss/ME characters, and any other characters or real-life folks are clearly not mine. NO money is involved. None are mine. I do not own the characters or any rights to the television show The Sentinel. They were created by Danny Bilson and Paul DeMeo and belong to them, Pet Fly Productions, UPN, and Paramount.

**Thanks to whomever it was that sent me an episode transcript when they realized I was going to go into a little more detail on this ep. I accidentally killed your email, but thanks for the help!**

**I know I usually write a little differently than this piece, but I'm trying to get the voices of the minor support characters in this one as well, keeping as much of the show as possible without the hokey parts that annoyed me when I used to watch this the first time around.**

**June 14th, 2003 – 11 AM**

**Cascade Police HQ Communications Room**

One of the three self-proclaimed 'militia' men had managed to finally make sure everything was in place, their own gear as necessary replacing that of the police. The one in charge, McBride, sat in front of the computer console, nodding as the information on the screen met with his approval, "Okay... let's do this."

**Personnel Office**

Vera, the clerk, shook her head slightly as she informed Blair as to what he'd need to do, "You're required to read the manual, fill out the application materials, and sign the consent form."

"Great, great. When I'm done with all this, I should qualify for a license to kill, huh?"

Jim sighed and rolled his eyes at his new acquaintance, "We've got a couple of hours here, Chief. So I'm going to be leaving you in Vera's capable hands and head out to lunch with Frank and Carolyn. Alright?"

"Uh-huh, okay."

"Vera," Ellison started to leave, then paused "Is that White Shoulders that you're wearing?"

"It's not too much, is it?" Vera asked, wondering if she'd put too much on for someone to actually notice, and a guy at that.

"No, not at all. It's just that whenever I smell White Shoulders, it reminds me of my grandmother."

"Your grandmother?" the police clerk replied in a flat tone.

"Right."

"Don't you have someplace to go, Detective?"

Blair shook his head and tried not to laugh. Doe had already finished signing the papers and initialing as indicated in the instructions, entirely missing the byplay.

"Right. Um, good luck, guys."

"Now, Mr. Sandburg, the department requests all incoming personnel to submit to a drug test. I hope that's not a problem for you."

"Oh, come on! Do I look like that would be a problem?" Blair protested, then paused, "Don't answer that."

"We'll need a urine sample." Vera looked at both men, Doe shrugging and taking the proffered container and leaving. Blair winced.

"Now, that actually might be a problem you see, 'cause, um... I just went."

Frank, Jim and Carolyn entered the garage going to Jim's truck, still talking about the Kincaid crazies.

Carolyn half-smiled, used to how her ex-husband was acting, "Would you lighten up on yourself, Jim? You got two of them put away for life."

"We nailed foot soldiers, Carolyn. Garrett Kincaid is still out there."

"You're not responsible for every lunatic on the loose."

Frank rolled his eyes, having had the same conversation with his own wife many times, "She's right, Jim. I know how ya feel, but remember every one of those whackos off the street makes the public a little safer. Kincaid will be brought in sooner or later…and we're taking my sedan. Your truck is so too small for all three of us. You complain, I'll drive and Carolyn will smack you in the back of the head if you get too mopey."

As they drove out of the garage, Frank narrowly avoided being squished by a white semi-truck. A grim man in the passenger side of that vehicle went unseen by them, which wa ironic as he was the focus of the current conversation.

"Alright, everyone listen up. This is Kincaid. We're now in the building. We are on standby status."

**Communications Room**

One of the men turned to the other and nodded as direction to begin the next phase of operations.

"Well, that takes care of the Gestapo in the field. Now for the rest of the ones in the building." He punched a button for the internal intercom, "Attention, all field units at central. Attention all field units at central. This is an emergency mobilization. Repeat, this is an emergency mobilization. An airliner has crashed into the Wiseman Water Reclamation Plant just south of the airport. All field personnel in the building report to Sergeant Howard at the crash site immediately."

Within three minutes most of the police staff had run into garage and left the facility as a white semi-truck enters garage. The man in the communications room waited until the truck was in then reached for his personal radio, "Start the lockdown."

The gates closed in the garage and men with weapons exited the semi. Kincaid without remorse shot down three officers that were still in the garage. Kincaid turned to his followers.

"Gentlemen let's move out. We have a building to secure."

**Cascade PD Building**

Kincaid's men herded everyone they came across down the halls. One of the militia losers entered a room and ordered everyone out, during which Blair crossed the hall to the bathroom unnoticed and unaware seconds before a few Kincaid's followers came around the corner. Rhonda from Major Crimes, and the captain's son Daryl were among the captures. The kid couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"Man, anything happens to me, and you're smoked. My father's the..."

"Daryl, please, let's just try to cooperate," Rhonda cautioned the teen as both were pushed through the Major Crimes door.

The rather large Joel Taggart in the next hall over quickly attacked one of the terrorists, knocking him almost unconscious, but was shot by another goon while trying to flee.

John had just finished washing his hands when he and Blair heard the shots. The young anthropologist raced to barely crack open the door and watched as one of Kincaid's men belittled the wounded Taggart as two other disarmed officers helped him toward Major Crimes.

"If you weren't a captain, bacon boy, you'd be dead right now. Let's get going."

Blair turned from the door to see John's feet disappearing into ductwork over one of the stalls. As one of the terrorists enters the bathroom to search by looking under the stall doors, John's already closed the vent while the scholar has planted himself atop one of the toilets in hopes of evading capture. The man leaves a moment later and John Doe opens the vent.

"You coming with me, Blair?"

"How's that better than just staying here?"

"They might need to use the facilities at some point…"

"Um, no. Chances are they won't find me, and I'm not sure the vents are our best bet."

"What if you just came up into the vent and stayed here?"

"No, you go ahead. Maybe get to the outside and find help."

"Okay. Good luck."

**Communications Room**

Kincaid and two of his henchmen entered the focal point of their takeover. He nodded recognition toward one man, named Southern, before addressing the second follower.

"Well, McBride. Is our building secure?"

"Every entrance sealed and guarded, Commander. Elevators are disabled, and we're manning the cameras just in case, sir."

"Good. What about the cops in the field?"

"All units diverted. Southern?"

"Jammer's operating. We got their communications completely shut down."

Kincaid smirked slightly as he looked around the room, "Looks like we've got the whole city at our feet. But I have an idea to make things a little more interesting. How many criminals are in the building?"

"In the holding cells down below, I think their might be twenty or thirty, and another six up here on this floor."

"Good. Southern, I want you to raid the evidence locker and find weapons, drugs, that sort of thing. Then take a man with you and escort the scum to take what they can carry. We'll let them out the garage all at once. Between the need to 'protect the public' from armed thieves and murderers, and our own situation, the cops will be spread even thinner once they catch on."

"What if they don't want to participate?"

"Tell them to fire the guns in the air after they leave and dump 'em around the corner. They can wait to be arrested again. I don't care. I want them out of here causing problems. Don't be afraid to kill one if you need to get the point across."

"Yes sir."

**Outside Police Department**

Carolyn tried her cell phone, this time calling the station since she knew the phones there were working before they left..

"Anything?" Jim asked as Frank stopped at an intersection.

"It's not just my voicemail, the whole phone system's shut down. And I can't even connect with the station, Jim."

"The backup network should have kicked right in. Try 911."

"Tried already. Disconnected."

"Something's wrong here. Frank, turn around and head back to the station."

"Alright, but don't think this gets you out of eating Indian…"

They turned around and a minute later were quite surprised to find the main gate closed off. Instead of stopping, Frank moved further along and made a u-turn. They got out and started to walk up to the entrance.

Jim shook his head, "Why is the gate closed? What the hell is going on here?"

Frank looked around, "When one of you takes off for lunch, it looks like the rest of you bail, eh Jim? What's up with the lax work ethic?"

Carolyn laughed as Jim Ellison rolled his eyes from the verbal direct hit. Looking around, he saw nothing, but then focused his sentinel vision into the garage and saw a man aiming a weapon at them from inside.

"Down!" he shouted and yanked both companions back to place a wall between the gunman and themselves. Three shots rang out, striking the building across the way. "There's a guy with a gun in there. Let's find cover."

**Major Crimes Division**

Kincaid entered to find his men finishing securing most of the obvious threats from among the captured police staff.

"Good work, gentlemen. For once we can say that justice will prevail."

Joel Taggart sighed under what he thought was the ability of the nutcase to hear, "Score one for the psychopaths."

"Captain Taggart, I can see that that bullet hole in your leg hasn't taught you any manners." Kincaid sneered as he ground his boot heel into the policeman's wound, causing a choked gasp of agony from the man.

"Keep your mouths shut and you might just live to get that fixed, fatty." The 'militia' leader shook his head with a look of mirth as he noticed Daryl Banks. He reached over and examined the ID badge still hanging around the boy's neck,

"Where's your daddy, boy?"

"Getting ready to kick your ass."

Kincaid pulled his gun and held it in front of Daryl's face, "I think Taggart's been a bad influence on your attitude. If you mouth off again, I'll shoot him in the stomach; that shouldn't be too hard to hit, huh?"

Kincaid kicked the boy's feet out from under him, causing a fall atop Joel, who groaned again from the sudden pain.

**Outside of Cascade Police Department HQ**

Frank Hayes had handed his radio over to Jim Ellison, who repeated his attempt to contact field units.

"David 152 to all patrol units. We have a field emergency. Central is under siege. We have an unknown number of suspects with assault weapons. Any unit, please respond code 3." Jim turned to the others, "They've somehow jammed all the channels. Stay here; I'm going to try to see if I can see anything from behind that car across the street."

Detective Ellison alighted from the vehicle and focused his attention, mainly his hearing at the window in front of Major Crimes. Most sounds were random voices, but he began picking up Kincaid's men and some of what they were doing. A car approached suddenly and the honking of its horn by Simon. Jim winces and jerks back from the loudness focused by his senses.

"Jim, are you okay?" Carolyn asked, noticing his sudden debilitation.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

Pulling up, Simon got out of his car and raced over on foot.

"Jim, what the hell's going on? I couldn't raise anybody on the radio."

"Get down! You'll get your head blown off, Simon," the ex-Ranger told his captain as he yanked Simon down to ground. "It's Garrett Kincaid and his men. They've sealed the building and shut down communication. Our cars can't even talk to each other."

"My god! Daryl's in there!"

"Simon!" Jim snapped as he pulled Simon, who was standing up, back down again. "Simon, he's okay."

"How do you know?"

"I saw him at the window," Jim demurred, not ready to reveal his sentinel abilities. "He's in the squad room with the other hostages."

"By now they've got to know that he's my kid."

"Simon! Settle down. He is scared, but he's unharmed and he needs you now. Hang in there."

"You know, in these hostage situations, if you survive the first assault, you stand a pretty good chance."

"Yeah."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Sandburg's in there too."

"Picked a hell of a day to get the guy his credentials."

"Yeah."

Frank Hayes shook his head, "And then Doe's in there. No telling what could happen next."

Jim smiled, "Hopefully they're somewhere in a supply closet with Sandberg coming up with case studies on gang dynamics while your guy cites the references for him."

Hayes rolled his eyes, easily picturing the two.

**Restroom**

One of Kincaid's men entered the room looking for hiding police staff again. Giving the place a casual examination, he had almost reached the door when Blair accidentally slipped from his perch between the stall walls and his foot flushed the toilet.

Man redrew his weapon and stepped slowly towardthe stall door next to Blair's, and raising a foot pushed it open quickly. No one inside. He shifted to the one in front of Blair, who was now sitting where he'd ended up on the floor. Noticing how the scary guy with the gun seemed to pause before kicking in the door, Blair placed both feet on the bottom of the door.

The man repeated himself, touching the door in just a little, and Blair pushed the doors hard and out with all of his strength. The door pushed the man's leg up and sent him flying back on the slick floor. His remaining foot slipped and the man flailed back and slammed his head hard on the sink behind him, the gun dropping to the floor.

John heard the commotion back in the restroom and slowly made his way back. Looking through the vent, he saw no sign of Blair Sandberg, but he did see the man on the floor and his gear. Calculating the descent, he dropped down. Searching the man and pocketing the extra gear, he found the criminal had an earpiece for the radio, a Swiss Army knife, and some rope. He reached into his knowledge and tied the man's feet and hands together behind the back and put him stomach-first onto the toilet. Using the man's shirt as a gag, John crawled back into the vent.

**Communications Room**

Kincaid looked at the monitor McBride indicated.

"I called you as soon as he showed up," Southern assured his leader; Captain Banks and others were hiding behind a vehicle.

"Poor guy's got to be worried sick about that boy of his. That ain't Ellison with him, is it?"

"Yes, sir."

"McBride, give me that phone."

**The Street Below**

Simon hung up the phone he was on, unhappy with the uncontrolled situation, "Yes, sir, I'll be waiting. Thank you for cutting me off. Well, all, the Mayor's got the fire department doing a full evacuation within a two block radius. He's also going to try to get word to the Governor."

Simon's phone rang again, "Banks here."

"Captain Banks, Garrett Kincaid here."

"Alright, you listen to me, Kincaid..."

"No, you listen. Now you've lost six people already. Casualties of war. Unavoidable. Your man Taggart is wounded and losing blood fast. And that boy of yours, God love him, needs to learn to have a little respect for his elders."

"I swear if you do anything to hurt him..."

"Shut up, Banks. In twenty-eight minutes a helicopter's going to land on the roof of your city jail. My two men Morrison and Alton are POWs there. You will release them. In 33 minutes that chopper will touch down on this roof. If my men are not on that chopper you're going to have a hell of a lot more people to bury."

"We have got to release some hostages. To show good faith."

"Sending one out right now if that's what you want." Kincaid nodded to his henchman.

McBride smiled as he radioed the man in the other room, "The Commander says 'Go'."

One militia member proceeded to use his M-16 to shoot out one a large window while two others grabbed Daryl and stepped toward the gaping hole.

"Hey, wait, wait. Get the hell off me. What are you doing? Get off me! Help me!"

Simon suspected something was wrong from the tone of the terrorist, "Kincaid, I want those people kept safe up there."

Kincaid snorted with amusement as Daryl continued to call out, his father now hearing his cries through the phone line.

"Dad, help me!"

Jim could clearly hear everything in the background on Kincaid's side of things, "Oh, no. This ain't good."

"Damn it, let go of me!" Daryl cried out as the two lowered him head-first to their amusement and Simon Banks' horror, "Get off me!"

"Oh, my god. Daryl."

"Please don't drop me. Daddy! Daddy, help me! Oh, please. Please! Daddy! Don't drop me. Don't kill me. Don't let me die. Daddy, help me, please! Daddy, help me! Daddy!"

"Kincaid, you still there?" Simon spoke into the phone with concern.

"I'm right here, Captain Banks."

"I'll be talking with the Governor in a minute."

"Good. Now, I don't want any police, SWAT, National Guard, Salvation Army. I don't want anybody showing up. Cause if they do, I'll have to start killing more sworn agents of the United States of Tyranny. Am I making myself clear? And I'll tell you something, Captain-- I've got a whole roomful to choose from."

"I understand."

"I do believe we've made our point." He waves at his people to pull the boy back inside for now.

Jim, Frank, Simon, and Carolyn relocated to a building across the street from the police department. Simon had been able to contact the governor's office on his cell, but didn't seem to be having much luck with the woman who ran the State of Washington.

"You cannot just have them roll in. People's lives are at stake. My son is in there, Governor!"

"I understand, Captain, and I feel for you. But I must be concerned with the lives of everyone else in Cascade. I have no choice but to call up the National Guard."

"Begging your pardon, ma'am, but Kincaid and his men are stone killers with a reputation for carrying out their threats. If the Guard rolls in, we could have a bloodbath on our hands."

"If six of your people are really dead, I'd say we already do."

"What about the prisoners Kincaid is demanding?"

"They stay right where they are. Captain Lomax in Tacoma is sending in a force to intercept the terrorist helicopter at the Cascade Jail."

"If Kincaid doesn't get what he wants, I guarantee he'll react."

"Since you're the only one who has contact with Kincaid, we're counting on you to control the situation until the Guard gets there. We've gotten the local TV stations to sit on the story. The minute people realize the police department's been rendered impotent, the whole city could panic."

They discussed the situation as it was, with what details and guesses indicated, making their way into a business for better and more secure cover.

"We'll do our best, Governor." Simon hung up the phone. "She wants us to keep things as calm as we can until the Guard arrives. And apparently, all units are being told to hold position or the hostages will be killed. So that's where our guys are."

"Captain…Simon, in less than 25 minutes, Kincaid will realize that his men won't be freed and then the Guard arrives. Either event is enough to send that psycho off on a killing spree."

Carolyn frowned and shook her head, "Well, Jim, what options do we have?"

"Well, I can get in the building and take my chances."

"With his men crawling all over the place?"

Simon sighed, "Carolyn's right, Jim. They got that place sealed up tight."

"Simon, there's got to be something we can do. This isn't going to remain 'peaceful' much longer." Ellison looked over to a man standing behind a counter, "Tom, you have a fax machine, right?"

"Who doesn't?"

"Carolyn, have Public Works fax over a map of the sewer system in a four-block radius of the station."

A fireman entered the premises, "Sorry, folks. Got a gas leak in the area. We need everybody to clear out."

Jim held up his badge, "We're aware of the situation, thanks. Police business."

The fireman turned to Tom and waved him toward the door, "Let's go, sir."

"Jim, lock up before you leave. The fax is in the office in the back. Gas leak, huh? Good story."

**Break Room **

Blair had scurried out of the way of a couple different minions, but eventually was forced to try hiding behind a large but unbalanced vending machine.

"God... god, please..." he whispered to himself in borderline panic, "Please, I promise, If you get me out of this, I will stop lying. I'll stop lying to Denise, And Jill, and, um...oh, yeah, and Ann, and Ann too, right."

Van Dyke, one of the militiamen, entered unaware, and dropped coins in the machine slot.

"Exact change? Bullshit; I've got some change."

"No! Don't shoot!" Blair shouted as the thug fired a couple of rounds into the recalcitrant machine. The anthropologist with all of his strength managed to topple the unit, trapping the militia loser under it, forcing all of the air painfully from the man's lungs by crawling over the machine and fleeing.

Simon and Frank finished putting on Kevlar vests as Jim uncovered a manhole fro a sewer entry into the building as Carolyn shifted to radio duty.

"I got to clean this damn trunk out one of these days," Simon complained to himself. "I know they're in here somewhere... Ah. Here we go. We're ready to go, now."

Frank nodded, checking his vet and weapons, "I'm good. Simon?"

"Yeah. I should have taken Daryl with me. I should have left him with his mother. Instead, I left him in the middle of this mess."

Jim looks a little overwhelmed with the smell coming from below.

Carolyn tried to reassure the senior officer, "Simon. Those are our friends in there. They'll watch out for him."

"Yeah, I know, as best they can. How do you think your buddy Sandburg's doing, Jim, or that Doe guy, Frank?"

Jim shook his head and sighed, "It's hard to say. I don't know him all that well."

"Isn't he your cousin's kid?"

"Yeah. We just didn't see that side of the family that much, you know."

Frank nodded, "I hear that. And as for Doe, I'm hoping him and your cousin have the sense to hide out if they haven't been captured, and to keep their brainy mouths shut and out of trouble if not.

Simon grimaced with a nod, "Come on."

"Oh man, that stinks." Jim pulled back a bit, his sentinel smell picking up a wee too much of the sewer smell.

"You alright?"

Yeah, I'll be fine."

Carolyn looked over at the three men about to head in, "Jim?"

"I know. Be careful."

Simon slapped Frank on the back to head down, "Let's go. When you get down there, Jim'll take point, Frank, you take our six. Right?"

Jim coughed after they nodded agreement to the line up, "I don't know if I can handle this, Simon."

"Don't you think you're overreacting a bit?"

"Just give me a minute to acclimate, will you?"

"Fine. You got the map, Frank?" The man nodded and unfolded it. Simon mused, "Looks like we want to head down this way. That should take us to this opening right here in the garage. Come on."

**Major Crimes**

"Fifth floor's good," Nolan reported to Kincaid, "No sign of a bogey."

"What's the condition on Van Dyke?"

"Still tried to bring him around."

"I want that intruder found, Nolan. Immediately, alright? Now, move it."

"Yes, sir."

**Sewer System Under Police Complex**

"There should be a bin to the left right here. Damn! We're running out of time, Jim."

"I smell gasoline, Simon. Where's the nearest gas station to here?"

"There aren't any gas... Wait…the pumps in the garage."

Jim and Simon looked up through hatch, calculating the odds and what they'd have to do. Frank Hayes held back and double-checked

"We're going to have to move fast, Jim. The security cam is looking our way. Frank you ready? You and I'll go first."

**Communications Room**

Both men ignored the security monitors as they talked, McBride sighing, "Any sign of the bogey, Southern?"

"No, but he took Van Dyke out with a vending machine."

"A what?"

"A vending machine, and Garrett's pissed since we still can't find Johnson."

Frank and Simon raced across the garage, the men too absorbed in discussing Van Dyke to notice the monitor as the two cops disappeared off-camera.

"What was Van Dyke doing at a vending machine?"

"I don't know…getting a soda?"

"Van Dyke -- that boy's an idiot."

Southern finally looked at the monitors, noticing Jima but just missing the others, "That's Ellison!"

McBride reached for the radio, "Jennings, there's an intruder in the garage-- your level."

"Copy that. I'm on my way."

Jim overheard the last remark as Frank made for the foor.

"Hold up Frank, Someone's coming!"

Instinct took over as Frank rolled one way, and Simon with him to avoid being seen immediately. Jim couldn't quite get out of 'line of sight' as Jennings opened the door with his gun readied and thereafter firing.

Jim and the criminal exchanged fire , the policeman taking two shots to the vest that knocked him down hard. Simon fired twice into Jennings at almost point-blank range as Frank eliminated the camera. A moment later Kincaid, who was listening in, cut in on the radio.

"McBride, those better be our guns I hear."

"Yes, sir. That was our ol' buddy Ellison tried to be a hero. Jennings took him out but we lost our video in a fire fight."

"That's good news. Good work, Jennings."

Simon reached for the radio asFrank disarmed and checked over the body of the terrorist.

"Thank you, sir." He looked over as Ellison pushed himself off the ground and stumbled to his feet. "Man, Jim! Looked like a good catch."

"Yeah, it was…to the vest. Let's get moving, guys."

**Communications Room**

"Commander, this is Nolan. I've got Walters on the ground-to-air. We have a problem."

"Talk to me, Walters."

"I'm circling the jail, Commander. No sign of Alton, Morrison or anyone."

"I can't believe they're messing with me on this. What more do they need to see? Nolan?"

"Sir?"

"Use the TOW."

"Yes, sir."

Walters interjected over the radio, "Commander Kincaid, I got company. There's a police chopper coming up on my rear."

"Take defensive action, Walters."

A moment passed.

"Direct hit, sir. Direct hit. They're down."

"Excellent."

Joel Taggart couldn't believe what was happening, "Kincaid... You're insane."

"Relative to what, Captain?"

Nolan informed his boss, "We're ready to launch, sir."

"Do it."

The terrorist on the roof launched the missile into a nearby building, the explosion enough to cause internal explosions and the disintegration of the structure.

Simon looked over at Jim, "What the hell was that?"

"Kincaid just found out he's not getting what he wants."

Frank shook his head as they continued, "I think I really hate that guy."

"It's okay. Just do your Kundalini breathing," Blair Sandburg told himself, remembering his yoga classes, "Remain calm and you might get out of here alive."

He took a few steps toward the stairs, but heard footsteps and raced back down the hall and into an office, barely missing two of Kincaid's thugs. Waiting another moment, he dashed toward a supply closet down the hall they'd already checked, when he tripped over the leg of an overturned chair and went flying forward into one of the militia guys coming out of an adjacent office he'd been searching. The man went down, his drawn sidearm going off several times at an angle from their bodies. A man screamed nearby, lifted his foot only to have another round take out the other.

Blair tried to get up, holding the man's gun to the side and the struggle emptied the clip. He ran back into the office in hopes of finding a door or an open window.

"Crap…" he whined, and picked up a big marble and hurled it at face-height toward the door. The dazed militiaman raced in right then, reloaded gun drawn, only to take it in the face. He managed to fire two rounds off as he went sprawling backwards. Blair grabbed at the gun but the man, however injured, pushed him away, but the gun also went free. Blair ran back into the room, not noticing a figure drop from a vent to land atop the foot-shot man down the hall, ending the screams by knocking all the air out of him.

**Downstairs**

The police trio made its way through the floor, reaching the inoperative elevators. As Frank and Simon finish checking rooms, Jim's placing his hand on the stairwell door.

"The door's still warm, Simon. I think they've just managed to weld it." The detective got up as Simon put his hand on the locked door, unable to pick up heat.

"It's not still warm. Jim!" Simon sighed, Frank following the two men back to the garage, where Ellison explained he was going to try blowing the door.

After about fifteen minutes of locating a police motorcycle, Jim has mostly taken it apart so he could make-shit create a charge t blow the door as he and Frank half-listen to the man's conversation with the governor going nowhere.

"No, Kincaid hasn't called back. My guess is that he's done talking."

Governor's tone was a bit frustrated, "If he does contact you, inform him I'm releasing Alton and Morrison."

"Governor, we could still have a chance at stopping this on our end."

"Captain Banks, 'could' isn't good enough. The potential for loss of life has become unacceptable. If we hadn't evacuated the area, do you realize how many casualties we'd be dealing with? My god, I never imagined we'd be facing such firepower."

"With your permission, I'd like to continue our efforts here."

"Do what you can, Captain. And good luck."

As Simon finished the call, Frank had finished moving the motorcycle as Jim finished wiring it for detonation.

Simon as he and Frank returned, "Did you get the battery hooked up?"

"Yeah, come on guys. We'll use the elevator for cover."

**Hallway**

John picked up the foot-shot man's gun, and realizing that as Blair scurried back into the office yet again, large ball in hand, that the floored terrorist retrieving his gun wasn't going to take John's new associate prisoner. John fired three times, two slamming into the shoulder of the man's gun arm, and another splintering the doorframe.

**Blair in office**

Blair shrieked as he heard the guy behind him open up; desperate the anthropologist hurled the ball into the window, near where the earlier shots had struck. The window shattered outward and he raced to crawl out the window to an espied window-washing platform just below normal line-of-sight.

Blair, "I don't believe this. I don't believe this! Okay, just picture yourself there."

A terrorist on the roof heard the noise, and looked over, surprised but still reacting quickly to the odd situation. He opened fire, but at such an angle it proved extremely difficult. Blair cringed but remained unharmed.

"No... no!" he complained to himself, "This is NOT what I signed up for…"

**Hallway**

John noticed the unconscious state of the first man, but after quickly removing weapons, he realized he'd been circling the floor. Considering his options, he raced back down toward the bathroom after seeing Blair was not around anymore. With a bit of trouble, but success, he re-entered the vent system and headed toward Major Crimes, many weapons on him to use if necessary.

**Blair's Precarious Perch**

Blair noticed he was in fact bleeding from a couple skinning ricochets, and there were even two holes in his jacket. The man up top stopped firing, but Blair kept racing to get the platform moving. He couldn't, so he jumped up and onto the ledge. Shots up top on the roof led to the cables releasing and the platform crashing to the ground. Quietly for a couple of minutes he snuck a glance around the corner of another large hole in a window, only to be grabbed and dragged in. A very unhappy Garrett Kincaid pointed a gun at Sandburg, ready to pull on the trigger, "Are you the mole that took out two of my men? In this militia, that's a capital offense."

"Hey, man, I'm not even in your militia. You don't want to do that, believe me. I'm worth more to you as a live hostage than a dead body."

"What makes you think that your sorry ass is worth anything to anybody?"

"Banks sent me in to make sure none of our people try anything, o-or you guys just up and kill the hostages."

"You're a cop?"

"Yeah. Lieutenant Sandburg, Narcotics. I've been teamed with Ellison."

Joel interrupted in hopes of keeping the kid alive, "He's telling the truth, Kincaid."

"Shut up Taggart!" Kincaid spat, firing a round next to the policeman's head, splinters tearing from the wood paneling.

"Commander! Commander" Nolan interrupted, "It's Walters."

"Go ahead, Walters."

"They just brought out our POWs. I'm dropping down to retrieve them, sir."

"Good work, Walters. Sometimes all it takes is just a little persuasion. Looks like the execution's off. I guess I could use a man like you."

**Communications Room **

"What the hell was that?" Southern asked his teammate just before Kincaid came over the radio. None were able to tell that the stairwell door had been blown wide open.

"McBride! What the hell was that!""

"I don't know, sir. It have must been the lobby. Smoke alarm's going crazy."

"Hoskins? Get down there and kill whoever's in my building."

"Yes, sir."

**Stairwell**

A few minutes of rushing up the stairs found the policemen outside the door to the floor where they expected to find Kincaid's men and the hostages. Jim stopped at the door, listened for a second or two, then to his companions' surprise yanked Hoskins through it and into a wall, hard. They heard the face bones crunch, the nose and maybe more taking damage as the man slumped unconscious.

Simon looked at his friend and subordinate officer, "How the hell did you know he was back there?"

"Couldn't you smell him? It's too much Skin Bracer."

"Come on," Frank told the knocked-out Hoskins as he handcuffed the man to the wall. Simon is left staring at Jim in disbelief, especially when he cocks his head to the side for a moment.

"We got to move, Simon. Their chopper's coming in."

"What are you talking about Jim," Simon responded with a little exasperation, "I still don't smell or hear anything."

The three cops made their way deeper into the building over the next several minutes, nearing the communications room. Jim can hear enemy radio communications.

"This is Kincaid. Everyone report to the squad room immediately. Repeat, everyone report to the squad room immediately."

The three stopped at the doorway of communications, weapons drawn and ready as Jim tries to listen through the door.

Simon had almost reached the end of his patience, rolling his eyes, "What is it this time, Jim? Too much English Leather?"

"Shhh," the detective admonished as he listened to the enemy walk down the hall, "Clear."

They headed inside, all three crouching low to avoid being seen entering the room.

**Major Crimes**

Joel and Daryl both exchanged a look as the two bound-together males broke the tape the terrorists had wrapped around their wrists earlier.

"This is it. We will evacuate as planned. Mr. Natural here is coming with me. He's my protection."

**Communications Room **

Simon typed a message into the computer for all units to return to central ASAP, lights and no sirens upon approach. Jim relayed Kincaid's conversation to the others.

"They're planning to evacuate, guys."

Frank looked at him like he was crazy, "You can really hear in there?"

"Shh!"

**Major Crimes**

"This is victory, gentlemen. Now, we will rendezvous at Camp Liberty as planned." Kincaid paused melodramatically for the moment. "Alright? Congratulations, guys. I'm proud of all of you. Now move out. Southern, McBride... you two stay here."

"Why, Sir?" Southern frowned.

"Nolan will pick you up downstairs as planned. It shouldn't take more than thirty seconds to execute these hostages."

"Captain, we never talked about killing the hostages."

"This is war. There are no prisoners. There are no witnesses. You know that."

At that moment, as Jim Ellison turned to tell his two companions what was going to happen, John Doe dropped down onto the militia leader from above; everyone in the room caught by surprise. Blair fell back into Southern and McBride as those militia men in the hall heard a commotion and turned back. The two terrorists fumbled their weapons for a moment as the anthropologist landed on the ground.

John looked at the gun in his hand for a moment, calculated angles and fired four times according to the manuals, striking the two assigned to execution duty in the upper arms holding weapons. Kincaid made to stand, but Daryl lunged forward to dog pile the criminal as Blair bit the man's ear to distract him.

Kincaid screamed out from the pain, while two shots fired from a textbook weaver-stance by John Doe struck two returning terrorists square in the foreheads at a range of only six feet. The body armor they were wearing had given him very little to target and he'd had to move quickly before their automatic weapons could be brought to bear. A wounded Captain Taggart brought down a large and heavy suspect identification book hard and fast onto Kincaid's face and jaw, the second hit knocking the man out as he'd torn free from Sandberg.

Four shots were fired out in the hallway, and those inside Major Crimes could hear Jim Ellison and Simon Banks shout down the terrorists to drop weapons. Rhonda and two others grabbed weapons, listened at the doors then slowly moved into the halls to assist.

A minute later, Captain Simon Banks entered the room to find everything under control, a stunned and somewhat morose John Doe being congratulated for his swift action, and Rhonda keeping Daryl from line of sight of the now-covered bodies of the dead terrorists.

"Daryl! Daryl, come here." He hugged his son tight, "It's alright, son. It's alright."

"Oh, Dad, man." The boy was tired from the stress of the last hour. "I knew you'd come."

"Oh yeah, how could I not? We have some fishing to do." The policeman looked over to Rhonda. "They're gone now. Jim's triggered the gates to let our people in to do mop up of the few left in the building. Rhonda. Daryl, I want you to stay with Rhonda now, okay? I have to make sure everything's under control. I'll be right back. You got him, Rhonda?"

"Got 'im, Captain."

Twenty minutes later, Jim and Simon both converged back into Major Crimes having made sure the building was secured and the National Guard were able to keep the terrorist helicopter on the roof. The police psychiatrist was already talking to Doe about what he'd had to do, so they let him be.

Carolyn ran up and half-hugs Jim, "I thought I told you to be careful, you bum."

"I was careful. Wasn't I, Simon?"

"Extremely careful. For you."

"Not helping so much, Simon."

"Hey, I won't lie for ya this time," Simon lightly smiled, "But seriously, Carolyn, Jim was in his element. So maybe this time only a light reprieve might be in order."

Blair wandered over from where he'd finished giving a statement. Daryl had explained how he and Blair managed to help Doe.

"So, I guess this means you're in," Simon told him.

"I'm on the team!"

"Strictly as an observer."

"Right, right. As an observer. Strictly. Of course."

As Blair went in search of a drink of water, Simon waved Ellison over and looked over his friend and subordinate officer, "Okay, what's going on here, Jim?"

"What do you mean?"

"You were awesome today. I've never seen anything like it. You were hearing things I couldn't hear; smelling things I couldn't smell. I mean, level with me, will you?"

"Alright. Over the past couple of weeks, I've had these sensory things going on. Things I couldn't control. It turns out I've got what can only be described as hyperactive senses."

"What? You mean like a superman thing?"

"No, no, no, it's all perfectly natural, Simon."

"Yeah. And your friend, Sandburg?"

"He's really an anthropologist. He's made a study of people like me in pre-civilized cultures."

"Pre-civilized cultures," Simon smiled at that description, "That sure describes you alright."

"Hey…he wants to observe me so he can help me figure out a way to deal with this."

"Too much information right now for me, alright?"

"I can imagine."

"So I'll tell you what. In a couple of days when we get this mess cleaned up and things return for what passes for normal around here, I want both of your butts in my office and you tell me exactly what's going down. Alright? And I want Hayes and Doe in there too. That Mr. Encyclopedia saved a room full of cops today, and Sandberg did fine as well from what I can see. And more importantly, my son is safe."

"Yes, sir. They didn't know about me, but okay."

"Make it a group effort. Whatever their damage is, just roll it into yours. I don't want everybody confusing me with too many damned secrets. And now I think I'm going to go give a hug to my son."

"Good idea."

Blair joins Jim.

"You told him, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I had to."

"What happened?" Did he, like, freak or what?"

"No. I actually think it's all going to turn out to be just fine. Though he wants Doe and Hayes in on it so he can keep things straight."

"Great, great. There's just one more thing I got to ask you."

"What's that?"

"This wasn't like a typical day for you, was it?" Blair looked at his new colleague with concern, but Jim just started laughing and walked away. "Well, is it?" Come on!"


End file.
